


you won’t be here with me

by Saraste



Series: A month of nwalin [25]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Braids, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, nwalin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9462341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Nori visits Dwalin, laid to rest at the heart of Erebor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where all these angsty nwalins are coming from.

Deep in the roots of Erebor Nori slips into the Halls of the Dead, fleet on his feet as a thief. Even if there is no need for caution, sneaking. For he has every right to be there.

 

Many months have already passed since the battle and the halls are hushed, no funerals today. It's already past mid-winter, Solstice gone, those who had died slow have already been returned to the stone. Nori tries to take comfort on Dwalin's end having been quick.  Even if had been too quick for a proper goodbye. Not that they had not said their goodbyes on the eve before the battle, sighing and gasping in each other’s arms, clinging to each other like the world would have ended if they hadn’t.

 

That it had… Nori can’t bear to think back on that last night without weeping. He had felt so very alive, so cherished, there in Dwalin’s embrace, in his arms. He will never forget Dwalin kissing Nori’s newest braid, one Dwalin had woven into his hair. Nori hadn’t even been allowed that, Dwalin getting all sappy and possessive over his marriage braid in Nori’s hair, for as long as he would have wanted.

 

Nori sighs as he looks down at Dwalin's still face. Returned to stone and unmoving. Never to frown at Nori again. Never to smile. His lips never to kiss. Arms never to embrace. To hold… 

 

He has to stop thinking, settle himself, take a few deep breaths of the stale air of the Hall, filled with too many fresh fallen, casualties of the battle which had cost Nori so much.

 

Even when he calms, Nori finds himself nervous, his hands fidget at his sides, tugging at the hem of his tunic. It's tight across his middle, he will be needing a new one sooner rather than later. He’ll need a bevy of new things, come summer. Maybe he can let the seams a bit nearer the hem, add some laces at the sides, his undershirt still fits, being loose. He swallows. It’s the same undershirt that saw him through their Quest, the same undershirt that Dwalin peeled off of his body that last night.

 

‘So…’ Nori sighs, the quiet pressing around him, almost making him flee. He reaches but draws his hand back. He can't touch, even if he could. He knows full well what happened last time. He needs to tell Dwalin what already too many know. He really should have gotten new, looser clothes sooner. Though it's not… it's not that obvious yet. But it can’t be explained by eating too much.  And supplies are scarce, anyway. He could take to wearing what clothes Dwalin left behind, though he’d be swimming in them, it would be understood, but he won’t do it, can’t.

 

He wants to tell Dwalin he’s angry. And he  _ is _ . Because this is something that ought to be done with Dwalin there beside him. Nori had, when the thought had come to him during their Quest, he had thought that if Mahal blessed them they would get to go at it together. Yet here he is. 

 

He sighs. Looks at Dwalin’s still face. Stands there with his head bowed.

 

His eyes are full of bitter tears when he speaks. ‘I’m to have a pebble come summer, Oín tells. Our pebble.  _ Yours _ .’

 

_ And you won’t be here with me _ , he doesn’t say. 

 

‘Dori and Ori are… they will be there for me, but it won’t be the same.’ 

 

He misses Dwalin’s gruff voice, his big warrior’s arms around him, his soft perfect kisses. He wishes that they had thought to be more careful, even if, even if he’ll get to keep a piece of Dwalin, after all. In the life they forged together. He prays Mahal it won’t look too much like Dwalin, for he won’t be able to bear it.  

 

Nori’s fingers are up in his hair, fingering his frazzled marriage braid with shaking fingers. He should braid a widower's braid in. Doesn’t want to, but should. Everyone knows, anyway. Anyone wintering at Erebor knows that Nori is the thief who stole Dwalin’s heart. That Dwalin was the hero who saved the King’s life. Nori needs no braid declaring his loss. He can’t bear the thought of having to unravel the last braid Dwalin ever put in and replace it with a widow’s braid.

 

‘You’ll never get to braid…’ 

 

And Nori touches Dwalin’s still stone face, then, unable to help himself. If he closes his eyes he can almost fool himself into thinking that Dwalin’s not… that he is… he swallows a gasping, horrid sob. Because Dwalin is  _ gone _ . And while Nori will braid in a new braid for their pebble, it should be Dwalin doing it with him, for him. 

 

‘Why did you have to be so thrice-cursed loyal, selfless?’ Nori asks, cupping Dwalin’s stony face, thumb reaching to trace his lips, from which no answer will ever come.  

 

 


End file.
